Window Opened
by silver.ink13
Summary: Because the odd thing about life is that you never really know what might happen next. And maybe, just maybe, the person actually meant for Matthew Crawley wasn't the eldest daughter, but her sister. The third. The youngest. Sybil. SxM.


"When the Lord closes a door –

* * *

_._

_August 1914_

To nobody's surprise, the garden party had turned out to be a wonderful success, despite the saddening event that had led the entirety of Downton to submit into a state of mournfulness and gloom.

Lady Grantham was slowly recuperating from her miscarriage, and the rest of the household could only imagine the pain that the loss had brought on Lord Grantham. But it was time to continue forward, and there wasn't a better occasion than a light-hearted garden party for it.

Matthew Crawley walked across the immaculate lawns of the large estate, anger and hurt blazing inside of him. He had had a confrontation with his fourth cousin, the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess – Mary – the person to whom he had proposed. It was apparent now that he had been mistaken to think she returned his affections. None of it was real. Not any of it. His vision blurred, and his steps slowly came to a stop as he reached the lake; there was a metal park bench on the edge of it, and he needed to sit down. Upon closer look, he saw that the seat was already occupied by someone: a young woman with dark curls partially covered by a cream-colored cloche hat.

"Cousin Sybil, I was not aware that you were here," Matthew said upon recognizing who it was. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

The youngest Crawley sister quickly turned around and stood up, a look of surprise on her face. "Cousin Matthew! It's quite alright," she nodded her head in her habitual way. "I didn't think you would come here."

Matthew had never felt so exceptionally awkward, standing there. His eyes must have been abnormally red, and it was without question that Sybil already sensed there was something wrong. He thought he saw a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Actually, I was just leaving. If you will make my excuses to your parents." He was about to turn and continue his walk back to the Crawley House when he heard Sybil talk again.

"Don't mind her," she called after him.

He paused mid-step.

"It's Mary, isn't it?" His silence was rightly taken as confirmation. "I love my sister dearly, but she's a fool not to accept you."

"Do you really think so?" He watched her as she nodded, the floral pattern on her pretty frock blowing gently in the breeze. The refreshing whiteness of her figure looked like it belonged to a painting, surrounded by the viridescence of the trees. The crisp leaves of a particularly handsome willow cascaded down with a soft wispiness in its texture, and it lightly brushed the bench Sybil was standing behind. For some reason she reminded him of the rain in spring.

"Thank you," he finally said, and she smiled. "How is your injury? I hope it's not causing you too much trouble."

"Much better, thank you." She put her hands together. "Of course, if it weren't for you I'd probably be dead by now." With a laugh she concealed her slight embarrassment - she wasn't about to tell him how heavily her heart had pounded in her chest when he told her to lean on him and then helped her back home that night, in spite of her lightheaded state.

He humbly glanced at the ground. "Branson was of much support. Although, you should be more careful if you ever decide to attend one of those political meetings again. They can become very aggressive, and I'd worry if you were hurt."

Sybil felt herself blush and attempted to compose herself. "Father would have my head if I ever went to another one." There was a hint of a smile forming on her lips. "But it's all so new and intriguing to me, I can't help but feel drawn to it."

"I think it's very good that you have found interests you feel passionate about outside of Downton. I know my mother approves greatly. It's out of her capability to entertain the idea of women doing nothing but pick outfits and plan tea parties all day long." And then he suddenly remembered that the most of Lady Grantham and their other acquaintances' activities comprised of exactly that. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Not at all! Cousin Isobel is very kind." It occurred to her how awkward it was that they were maintaining a conversation standing several feet apart. "Would you like to sit?"

Matthew's original intentions had been to return back to the house, confine himself to the bedroom and think everything over. The emotions were like tidal waves crashing within him, stronger than any he could remember feeling recently. But Sybil was so kind and gentle, so great a contrast from the harshness of her sister. And unknowingly, the distraction had already done much in calming him. He thanked her and sat down on the bench beside her.

"She does love you, you know," Sybil murmured as she looked out at the shimmering ripples of the pond.

"Her hesitation in accepting my offer suggests otherwise," Matthew replied. "I can't help myself from wondering if the closeness that we've developed was prompted by ulterior motives on her part rather than a genuine liking for, well, me. I hate to think like that, but – "

Sybil held up a large chunky rock she picked up from the ground. "Here," she said, offering it to him.

He stared at it with a look of utter confusion. "What am I supposed to do with a stone?"

"You," she said, standing up with an expression not unlike the one she had worn when showing off her harem pants the year before. "Are going to throw this into the lake as far as you possibly can."

Matthew took the rock, amused at his cousin's unconventional yet jovial way of doing things. Sybil counted to three, and he threw the rock, putting in every ounce of his strength, imagining that he was ridding every bit of frustration away from his body. He shielded his eyes with one hand and watched as the rock plunged heavily into the water with satisfaction, for, to his surprise, he discovered that he suddenly felt better, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I'm glad," she said brightly when he told her so. "You looked like you could snap one of these gigantic trees here with nothing but your bare hands when I saw you just now."

They talked of many things for the next hour, and shared many laughs. Matthew found himself greatly enjoying Sybil's company. He had always thought her to be somewhat different from the rest of the family. The evening that he and his mother first arrived at Downton, while everyone else had met them with forced hospitality, only Sybil's smile seemed genuine at all. He couldn't remember her ever putting on false pretences or going about with a superior air that seemed intrinsic to most members of aristocracy. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled as she giggled. She was like a breath of fresh air.

Suddenly, the music in the distance stopped playing. Sybil frowned. "The party can't possibly have ended already. It's far too early."

"Would you like to go take a look?"

Sybil nodded. "Yes, I think we should." She gasped. "Oh! What if something has happened to Mama?"

The pair broke off into a run towards the place where the party was being held. Possibility after possibility of what could have happened flew into their minds and added to their worry. At some time or another, one of them had grabbed onto the other's hand. When they finally reached where everyone was standing with Lord Grantham encompassed in the centre, they saw that the crowd was waiting anxiously for him to announce what seemed to be an important message. Sybil and Matthew focused their eyes on the Earl, panting heavily, hearts pounding and not aware that their hands were still clasped together.

Lord Grantham appeared more weary and distressed than they ever saw him as he stared at the small piece of paper which he held in his hands.

" – Because I very much regret to announce…that we are at war with Germany."

Immediately gasps and murmurs and agitated cries rang out. For several weeks there had been consistent rumours of the outbreak of war, but the confirmation of it being the actual truth nevertheless came as a shock. Suddenly it felt so real – too real. All the women were weeping into their gloves and handkerchiefs as the men did their best to console them, while mentally preparing and discussing between themselves what awaited them. Lord Grantham had walked over to reassure a very disconcerted Cora.

Even Sybil, always full of spirit and strong-mindedness, couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. It was all too sudden, too overwhelming to comprehend. What a war was like exactly, she did not know. But just the sound of the word felt like a dark thunderstorm looming above, threatening to destroy everything with a flash of its crackling lightning. Sybil turned to Matthew, burying her face into his chest and he gently placed his arm around her. But even as they stood there, the world around them was beginning to change.

.

* * *

.

"What will happen next?" Sybil inquired from the couch with a thick book on her lap.

Robert was going through his large collection of volumes that covered the entire walls of the library, occasionally taking one out to inspect it. "Well," he said, bending slightly to peer at a particular title. "I really can't say."

Carson appeared at the doorway. "Mr Crawley," he announced in his deep voice, and stepped back for the heir of Downton to enter. Robert turned around and Sybil lifted her head from the book.

"Matthew," Robert said with a slight frown, but it was apparent that he was happy to see the person who had become something like a surrogate son to him. "We weren't expecting you. Please." He gestured for Matthew to make himself comfortable. "Carson, if you could ask Mrs Patmore to prepare something for luncheon."

Carson nodded. "Very good, m'lord."

Closing the book that she had been reading, Sybil stood up. "I'll just be going." Matthew nodded to her as she walked past him and she smiled back.

Once they were alone, Robert said, "I have a premonition that whatever you have come to talk to me about must be very serious, and I do not know whether I want to be proved correct or not." He glanced at Matthew with a meaningful look.

Matthew thought he knew what the Earl was insinuating. After withdrawing his proposal to Mary, he had had thoughts of leaving Downton. He was still the heir, of course, but he had to leave. Just for a while, at least. "Actually, I came to tell you that I have enlisted in the army," Matthew said.

Robert turned away from the shelf to face him, looking somewhat relieved. "Have you really? Then I must congratulate you. I'd do anything to enlist myself." He sighed. "Only age is an inevitable and often terrible thing."

"You mustn't put yourself to blame. I heard of your bravery in the Boer War, and perhaps it's better if you stayed here at Downton with Cousin Cora."

"Perhaps you're right. Well. I do admire you for your courage – you will not believe how many young men living in far less favourable circumstances than you that are, regretfully, much too cowardly to fight for their country."

Matthew nodded in agreement. "But I hear that a large number of men fitting for the standards of the army have already enlisted."

"That's relieving." Robert sighed again. "You don't know how glad I am the matter with Mary hasn't caused too much tension. Cora keeps fretting everyday, even though Mary's away in London."

"Please tell Cousin Cora not to worry."

"She'll be happy to know that. I'll be happier than anyone she can finally sleep in reassurance now and not deprive me from _my_ rest for another night longer." They laughed, and a slight pause followed. "I'm sorry it didn't work out properly as we had all hoped it would."

Matthew smiled, almost regretfully. "Please don't be. Life wouldn't be quite so interesting if everything went exactly the way people wished. But I do genuinely hope that Mary and I can mend all of the misunderstandings between us and still be friends."

"Well," Robert said, putting a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Whatever happens, I want you to know that I am proud of you, and Downton should be proud its future master has made such a noble decision as well."

"Thank you," Matthew replied, with just as much sincerity and solemnity as the man standing before him.

.

* * *

.

Two weeks had passed since the day Matthew announced he was to join the army. And now the day had come for him to say all the goodbyes and make all the necessary arrangements in preparation for his absence. Tomorrow, he would leave.

Despite his protests, the Granthams insisted on a last farewell dinner. Matthew really did not want any lavish event done on his account. He supposed it was something about him that would never change – he could never admire excess extravagance and opulence in the manner others did. But they wouldn't relent, and so at six o'clock that evening, he and his mother made their way to the house. The family was all in the drawing room when they arrived.

"Cousin Isobel, Matthew," Cora greeted them warmly. "It's very kind of you to come. Shall we have dinner, then?"

The party moved to the dining room, where Matthew was seated between Lady Grantham and Edith. The long mahogany table that they sat around had transformed from something unfamiliar to him, something he had once endeavoured to avoid and a symbol of the situation that he had so unwillingly been thrust into several years ago, to something that he saw so often it would certainly be one of the many things he should miss. Matthew looked at the table and the sets of polished cutlery and folded napkins that had been so orderly placed by the footmen with a kind of fondness that surprised himself. But then again, it really wasn't so surprising at all.

"I suppose you'll devote all of the time you haven't already to the hospital beginning from tomorrow," the Dowager Countess remarked dryly towards Mrs Crawley.

"Yes, I hope so," Isobel replied, ignoring the repugnance that had been so obvious in the elder Lady Grantham's tone partially just to spite her. "And the hospital will need as many helpers it can get. We will be expecting a considerable increase in the number of patients, most of which will have been sent back from the front."

Violet raised her eyebrows for a moment. "Ah. But you won't even need anaesthetics to make them lose consciousness. Such a great reduction in expenses, Clarkson must be absolutely thrilled!" The Countess, a woman full of equivoques and witticism, appeared surprised by the puzzled expressions around the table and explained, "If _I_ went to the hospital I'd undoubtedly find our Mrs Crawley's inclination to be…_intimidating_."

Isobel stiffened and replied, "If what you're saying is that I am very passionate about nursing and take my work seriously, then yes, I do."

An unbelieving snort was emitted from the Dowager Countess and she covered it with a light laugh. "Oh, Cousin Isobel, I find myself becoming increasingly fond of your most entertaining sense of humour every time we exchange speech." She caught Cora's warning gaze and her chuckling reduced to a sniff, and she tasted a spoonful of the kidney on her plate instead. "My my, this food is very bland."

Robert was smiling. "Oh, Mama, stop being so melodramatic. You know perfectly well that the food tastes just fine," he said chidingly, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Mrs Patmore would be very upset if she somehow found out about your comment."

Violet harrumphed again, and there was a brief moment of silence at the table. Cora, sensing the awkwardness that would soon plague the evening if it weren't helped soon, quickly tried to initiate a new conversation. "I heard Lady Louise Abrams hosted a party last week…" And immediately Edith, Sybil, Violet, Robert and Isobel were all engaged in the discussion.

Watching the scene before him, Matthew felt an odd ambience of peace. Two years ago, he would have found it difficult to believe had someone told him that he and his mother would dine with the Granthams like a true family. But now they were. The only sound that he could hear was the amicable voices of those nearest and dearest to him (even Violet and Isobel weren't quarrelling about something or another) above the light clattering of silverware. The only thing missing, the only thing that would have made the evening absolutely perfect, was Mary. Matthew stared at the vacant seat across from him longingly. Had she been here, he'd watch her talk and smile and knew that she would be the centre of all his attention. Matthew realized with a start then that he still loved her. He was still hopelessly in love with Mary Josephine Crawley and there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps it wasn't even a realization, but merely something that he had known all along and simply refused to acknowledge.

" – Matthew?"

He jerked his head upwards. "Yes? I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Cora smiled. "Have you prepared everything for tomorrow?"

"Yes, actually," Matthew replied. "I won't be bringing much with me, though."

Sybil put her fork down and sighed in distress. "I hate not being able to do anything useful. While all the men go off to fight, the only thing I am allowed to do is sit at home like a porcelain doll. Why can't women fight, too?"

The Dowager Countess was quite shocked at this proclamation and looked as if she might have a fit. "Oh Sybil, dear, please do not talk of such appalling absurdities. At least not while I draw breath."

"But Granny, all I'm trying to say is that I want to help out with the war effort too – it's so unfair that men does all the fighting – _anything_ I could do – "

Violet went on saying something that sounded like "women _fighting_…never heard of such a monstrous thing…" and the matter was closed, but Matthew had caught Sybil's eye and grinned at her. He admired her for her bravery and fiery spirit, a spirit that belonged to Sybil and Sybil alone.

The rest of the evening continued pleasantly. The food was delicious, as usual, and Mrs Patmore's raspberry pudding was agreed to be nothing less than absolutely divine. The conversations were light-hearted and entertaining after they had proceeded to the drawing room and Matthew nearly forgot about everything. But the hour was getting late and it was time for him and his mother to return to Crawley House.

At the grand entranceway, they bid their farewells.

"Thank you for a delightful evening," Matthew said.

Robert came forward and patted him on the back. "Cora and I will see you off at the train station tomorrow morning."

"That isn't – " Matthew began but was immediately cut off by them all at once.

The Earl of Grantham held up a hand. "No, I demand it – "

Sybil had rushed forward as well, a flash of dark curls and Egyptian blue chiffon. "Oh, but I want to go too!"

Robert looked as if he might deny her, but there was a moment's pause as he stared into his daughter's eyes that were the same shade of blue as his and saw the passionate, pleading look in them. He was hesitant, but her countenance, and the affection he felt for her and all the possibilities of the war made it impossible for him to give her a negative answer.

"Well, then," he said. "It's decided. Tomorrow morning we will all meet Matthew at seven o'clock at the station."

Sybil hurrahed and happily kissed her father on the cheek, and catching Matthew's eye, she smiled, her eyes almost twinkling in merriment.

.

* * *

.

Dear Cousin Matthew,

It seems much longer than a week since the morning we bade farewell to you at the station. We're all very proud of you, and I ought to feel happier, but I can't help wishing that you were here. It feels so strange with both you and Mary away from Downton.

I'm training to become a nurse; Cousin Isobel suggested it. I hope to be able to help Dr Clarkson at the hospital soon. Papa found the whole thing horrendous when it was first brought up, but I know you'd understand. None of this would have been possible without the assistance and support of Cousin Isobel though – she has been so very kind to me. Surprisingly she and Granny seem to agree on this matter.

I hope you are well. Your safety is our primary concern. Remember that our hearts are and always will be with you.

Looking forward to hear from you soon,

Sybil Crawley.

.

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A/N: Thank you for reading, I promise to update as soon as I can. Tell me your thoughts by leaving reviews, please?

- silver . ink 13


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